October Reflections - 2024

Dear Molly,

Today, someone unexpected mentioned they'd read a few of my Dear Molly letters over the summer. It was a lovely reminder of the joy that comes from writing to you in this way. I do it for both of us - for me, and for you - and I’ve always shared these letters for anyone who cares to read them. I write to capture time, to preserve moments and emotions that might otherwise drift away, trailing a string, a lost balloon. I usually wait for the universe to nudge me, to know when it's time to write again.

And here we are, just days away from your 14th birthday - 14! I know it may only seem remarkable to me, your mama, but I can hardly believe we've reached this moment. It's a beautiful contradiction. On one hand, it feels like just yesterday you were reaching up to hold my hand, a little head of blonde curls bouncing beside me. Yet, on the other hand, it feels as though we've shared a hundred lifetimes together.

October is our favourite month, a time that feels like a spiritual connection between us. Perhaps it’s because your birth month holds special meaning for both of us, but I think it runs deeper than that. There's a profound synchronicity between our happiness, our sense of well-being, and the arrival of autumn. We both feel it, and whether it's something learned, mirrored, or naturally woven into us, it doesn’t matter. We both love October - our month of golden light, crisp air, and a quiet, healing beauty.

This October, in 2024, feels like a time of transition for you. You are finding your place in senior school, balancing friendships, academic life, theatre, army cadets, and family - all the pillars that support you. We’re here, quietly guiding you as you arrange them to build the strongest foundation for your growth. Your dedication and work ethic are admirable, and you embrace every opportunity for enrichment. Watching you unfold is a joy.

As I observe the world around me, and recall my own journey, I understand what it takes to succeed, from my perspective. Every day, you show me how different we are, yet I see that the essence of who you are, your moral compass and your guiding North Star are not so unlike mine. I know you'll always aim higher, reach further, and embrace the truth that you get out of life what you put into it. You pour your heart and soul into everything you do, and I have no doubt that life will reward you abundantly.

Trust your instincts, go with your heart, work as hard as you can, be kind to yourself, treasure space, and always just go for it, whatever it might be. Let the ballon go if you need to.

The best moment of 2024 - The Eras Tour, Wembley

"With you I'd dance in a storm in my best dress, fearless." - Taylor Swift, Fearless

I love you poppet.

Canals, and me, and you

Dear Molly,

The British canal system, built to move coal and other raw materials, from city to city at the heart of our industrial past, has become a puzzle piece in my make-up.

I think it helps that inclement British weather is where my soul feels most at ease. I have a love hate relationship with summer. It looks cheery, but makes me feel sluggish. Spring with its hope, autumn with its cozy promise and the purity of winter are where I feel most alive. Canal holidays, in my experience, usually involve a healthy serving of spring, autumn and winter, on rotation.

One day, I will write more about the canal adventures I went on with my family throughout my childhood. From London to Oxford, North Wales, Manchester, Leeds, Sheffield, Stoke-on-Trent, Liverpool, Birmingham, Leicester, Nottingham and every inch of beautiful British countryside in between, we covered it all on our various family narrowboats. From steep flights of locks up and over the rolling green Pennines, to aqueducts in the sky, to urban voyages through steel factories, derelict timber wharfs and potteries, the canals branded a love of the UK, and all of her characteristics, onto the little girl who watched it all go by.

I put myself in the camp of people who know what they’d like to do, but who allow life and lack of time to prevent it happening. I want to do more exercise, to volunteer, to go for more walks, to climb Snowdon, to walk some more of the SW coast path, to wild camp…..I would put my desire to carry on narrow-boating in the pot with all of those things, except for the fact that we have all been going on canal holidays for the last 7 years. Maybe the universe intervenes when it is important enough.

Being able to weave my love of canals into your life, and those of our family, is a privilege and brings me so much joy. My carefully bottled past memories, bubbling out, into us.

The distinctive chugging of a diesel boat engine, my heartbeat, the smell of the grease on the cogs of a lock mechanism, the feel of a 1.5 tonne lock gate opening, the haunting, freezing air in a black, brick, drippy old tunnel, where no sunlight has been in over 200 years, the taste of a bacon sandwich in the cold morning air, waking up to see dew laden grass on the damp morning towpath through the window by your bed, and the thrill of that illusive orange or blue flash ahead of you above the water. This list could go on and on and now, you could write it too.

At 13 years old, you get very excited for our canal holidays. You revel in arranging your cosy boat bedroom, in the peaceful time that this holiday provides for you, for us all. Seeing you, wrapped up in your raincoat, holding your lock handle, walking under the brick bridges, winding up the paddles, pushing gates, writing stories, and enjoying evenings on the boat, is all like peeping back through a window at myself, 34 years ago, and nothing much has changed.

If I had never been on a narrowboat, there would be a part of me locked away. I close my eyes now, take one step along the towpath, and the magic engulfs me. I see a damselfly. Until next time. I love you x

"We could never have loved the earth so well, if we had no childhood in it" ~ George Eliot

Our pilgrimage, to Cornwall

Dear Molly,

There’s something here. I don’t know what it is but I feel it deep down inside me. We first visited in 2017. It was the holiday that shaped so much of me, and of us.

We drove here today. 6 hours of motorway driving. It felt like a pilgrimage. Our journey through life. As we grow together, the threads that weave our story grow clearer to me. What I learnt recently, is that, today, we also followed a ley line to get here. An ancient pathway from here to home. Over 300 miles. From here, to where we live.

Cornwall is steeped in myths, legends and folklore and whether you are enchanted by the stories, or nonchalant, the air, the landscape, the warmth, the feeling here is real. It is for me.

Tonight we stumbled across Polkerris Beach. The most beautiful hidden gem of a beach with a soft sandy shore and rich green forested cliffs and headlands.

Cornwall keeps surprising me in the most beautiful of ways. Polkerris is in Daphne Du Maurier country, and she is one of my absolute favourite writers. It feels appropriate that we should roll up there, unexpectedly, on our first night here. ‘Rebecca’ links me to my own mother, whose copy I read and re-read as a teenager and adult. I will forever be enchanted by the opening line, “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.” Then I read ‘Jamaica Inn’ whilst visiting the north coast with you in 2017. You read ‘The Railway Rabbits.’ You were six years old and the sweetest girl.

You are happy here now. I feel that too. You have a peace about you, a smile, and you find joy in everything you see. I made the right choice bringing you back. I feel that inside. I want Cornwall to shape your story too. Your now and your future.

Let’s have adventures whilst we’re here. Let’s find all the secrets in the steep windy streets, leading to colourful stone cottages, by fishing harbours and secluded beaches. Where the steep, green rolling hills meet the sky and the sea beyond. Where mists roll in and shroud the hills before the warmth of the sun glides through once more. Let’s leave with happy hearts and with footprints of Cornwall deep down inside us.

I love you sweetheart xxx

“Because I want to; because I must; because now and forever more this is where I belong to be.” ~ Daphne Du Maurier, Jamaica Inn.

Another bend in the road

Your last day of primary school. It is unfathomable that we are here. And yet, here we are.

I always knew it would be hard, that it would be a wrench. I just never knew how hard.

We came to the school community when you were 3 years old. Your bubbly blonde curls, framing your chubby baby face with your big blue eyes and your happy, articulate, caring and eager to please personality shining over everyone you encountered. I brimmed with pride at every interaction. You made wonderful friends of girls and boys alike, and I made friends with their parents. Those people, in that building, were more than classmates and teachers, they were family.

A small rural school meant that you had a small class. You were all thick as thieves from the moment you were jumbled in together in those welcoming little classrooms, with their tiny chairs and huge hearts.

And now, you are 11. Your primary school journey has come to an end. That last day was one of the most painful days. The amount of emotion hurt my heart and head. The joy of the memories, the friendships, the achievements, the love, mixed with the fact that it was all over, was a heady concoction. It hollowed out a space in my stomach which felt like the air was being sucked from me. I was always going to cry, but watching you and your friends sobbing into each other’s arms was so beautifully painful that it broke me.

The cherry on the top was you being awarded ‘Pupil of the Year’. You have worked tirelessly since you got to that school. You’ve read, and written, and researched and soaked up every last bit of knowledge that they have given you. You deserved that trophy with everything you are. Now take all of those experiences onto your next adventure. You are going to fly my love, I just know it.

All my love, Mummy xxx

"my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does." ~ Anne, Anne of Green Gables, L.M.Montgomery